Weighing In

All my life I have struggled with my weight. I've been on diets, joined gyms, bought exercise equipment and consumed disgusting liquids, all with the hope of attaining some golden number on the scale. I struggled with, and finally sought treatment for, bulimia for over thirteen years. When I was about 27 I looked fantastic. I worked out about three hours a day, five or six times a week, doing step aerobics and pyramid weight lifting. I sometimes wonder where I got the energy and motivation to maintain a program like that - and then I remember: I was at the peak of my cocaine addiction and taking prescription diet pills at the time. No wonder I had so much damn energy!
Sometimes I look at pictures of myself then and wonder if, at age 40, my body could once again withstand a diet of phen-phen and coke. Probably not.

After a lifetime of dedicated drug use (cocaine being only one in a sea of drugs for over 20 years) and the near equivalent of that time devoted to an eating disorder, I have now royally destroyed my metabolism. (And my parents said I never accomplished anything!) I am heavier now than I have ever been in my life and I really don't eat that much. I try to eat lots of fresh vegetables and drink lots of water (I've also done a number on my kidneys over the years) and while I have an affection for carbohydrates, my eating habits certainly do not constitute the number I see on the scale.
Actually, the number on my scale bounces around a lot. While I'm standing on it. This is because I've kicked it into the wall a few times too many and it's not exactly in the best shape.


I have a pretty good idea of what I weigh, hence the ritualistic 'kicking of he scale' and it's too damn much. I no longer reward a two pound loss with a box of Twinkies, but it hardly seems to matter. I have parked myself in a fat suit and am uncomfortable living in my own skin.
I know that the only way to fix this is through exercise - and lots of it. But I'm so embarrassed being in public, let alone attempting to move quickly while other people are watching, that it's hard to get started again. I bought a bicycle and rode it to work for about a week, but I was ashamed to be seen peddling and sweating in commuter traffic. I keep it in my house next to front door. (It makes quite a unique coat rack.) I bought some weights and keep them in the living room as a visual reminder to use them, but after tripping over them so often I've developed animosity toward them. I have a brand new mini-trampoline that sits in the middle of the living room - again as a visual reminder. This, I actually use. I step on it every time I go to put a DVD in the player. (I just love movies!) I bought a complete set of workout DVD's featuring Jillian Michaels from The Biggest Loser and I've watched them all. I also have a membership to a gym. The little plastic tab given to me for checking in and out of the gym makes a stylish key ring accessory.

I've been thinking, the past couple of days, that there may be a better use for all this extra furniture/exercise equipment I've invested in. I mean, for God's sake! I have a coat closet right next to my front door. It has hangers in it and everything!

So I'm going to 'go for it'. I'm going to 'just do it!' I'm made a plan and am starting tonight, by God! Now that I've publicly plead guilty to my sin of apathy, I'm hoping... no, GOING to kick it into high gear, so to speak, and give this exercise thing a decent try. (Of course, I'll have to get a new scale so I'll know if it's working.)

Wish me luck! I'll keep you posted.